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money jake - models lyrics

[chorus: tmc the don & money jake]
ayy, she got a shape of a bottle
exotic lil’ baby, i think she a model
designer you, baby, balenci’ your body
i’m wellin’ you and i don’t think you acknowledge
i’m hittin’ the gas, i don’t care ’bout the mileage
she ridin’ me, baby, i tap on her throttle
and i just want cuban links up on my body
and i just want forgiatos when i ride it, and i
she love the gucci and prada
my foot on they neck like a shirt on a collar
you mention my name, better be ’bout a dollar
i stay with that stick like i’m harry and potter
you cut that b+tch off, so don’t worry about it
i bossed her up, gotta bury your mileage
gucci and prada, she wearin’ red bottoms
i want me some head, i’ma marry a scholar

[verse 1: tmc the don]
she rock dior with the fendi, she always look pretty, i think that i married a stylist
bbl, touch on her gently, she ride like a bentley, i think that i married her body

[verse 2: money jake]
ayy, i got ninety+nine problems, but b+tches ain’t one
the d+ck in her throat, make her cum from her lung
thumb in her b+tt, beat her ass like a drum
this position right here, you’ll be havin’ my son, yeah
[verse 3: tmc the don]
b+tch, i’m already numb to cold
i like her body, but i told her we can have b+tches in multiples
threesome got you fantasizing, i’m readin’ your body, know you gettin’ comfortable
ooh, now you sayin’ i’m one of the greatest
she rockin’ amiris, keep her in the latest
i’m countin’ the money, she like when i break it down

[verse 4: money jake]
she love a big stepper, i pop it, stojaković
and i run my whole squad like i’m popovich
take me a solid ho over a poppin’ b+tch
just in case you go broke and they hoppin’ d+ck
i get more head than a bald net
she eat me up, i’m an omelette
i’m ’bout my coin like i’m sonic
all this bread got my neck and my arms lit

[verse 5: tmc the don]
and i’m spinnin’, eeny, meeny, any model, pick a model
really we the hottest in the town
told me that you tired of playin’ games with me
that you wanna see what we about

[verse 6: money jake]
oh, gee, ma
you want a rollie, a g+shock
she f+ckin’ with me and she f+ck on a don
i really can’t blame her, ’cause we hot
[chorus: tmc the don & money jake]
ayy, she got a shape of a bottle
exotic lil’ baby, i think she a model
designer you, baby, balenci’ your body
i’m wellin’ you and i don’t think you acknowledge
i’m hittin’ the gas, i don’t care ’bout the mileage
she ridin’ me, baby, i tap on her throttle
and i just want cuban links up on my body
and i just want forgiatos when i ride it, and i
she love the gucci and prada
my foot on they neck like a shirt on a collar
you mention my name, better be ’bout a dollar
i stay with that stick like i’m harry and potter
you cut that b+tch off, so don’t worry about it
i bossed her up, gotta bury your mileage
gucci and prada, she wearin’ red bottoms
i want me some head, i’ma marry a scholar

- money jake lyrics

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